


doe eyes you're kidding yourself

by CallicoKitten



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Exorcisms, Jealousy, Mild Gore, Multi, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 06:32:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: The first thing Trenchcoat does after dragging them off the beach is give them a crash course in possession. Mick’s not really paying attention, spends more time keeping a tally of eye-rolls from Sara and Zari and trying to avoid looking at Haircut enthusiastically question Trenchcoat on the science behind it all.Later, he’ll hate himself for it. Later, he’ll think how easy it would have been to just listen, to spot the signs and put a stop to all of it before it became one huge crapheap but in the moment, Mick sits with his chair tilted back against the wall and slowly but steadily makes his way through a six-pack.-ray gets possessed, mick's going to save him





	doe eyes you're kidding yourself

**Author's Note:**

> ive been working on a possessed!ray fic since the midseason break so this fic is kind of messy. its been through a lot of iterations and pov shifts and overall plot reworkings and i also kind of combined several different tv shows in addition to the arrowverse for how possession works so you know.
> 
> is sort of part of my ongoing legends series but you don't need to have read it. all you need to know is ray and len were a thing and ray and mick were more recently a thing but now aren't
> 
> so um, enjoy

The first thing Trenchcoat does after dragging them off the beach is give them a crash course in possession. Mick’s not really paying attention, spends more time keeping a tally of eye-rolls from Sara and Zari and trying to avoid looking at Haircut enthusiastically question Trenchcoat on the science behind it all.

Later, he’ll hate himself for it. Later, he’ll think how easy it would have been to just listen, to spot the signs and put a stop to all of it before it became one huge crapheap but in the moment, Mick sits with his chair tilted back against the wall and slowly but steadily makes his way through a six-pack.

“To cut a long story short,” Sara says, after the first half-hour. “Is there anything we can do to _prevent_ possession?”

Trenchcoat shrugs. “Not completely. There are charms you can wear and spells you can cast and anti-possession tattoos but – ”

“That could work,” Pretty interrupts. He glances around them. “Come on, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be at least _slightly_ cool to have matching tattoos.”

“That would depend what they looked like,” New Kid says. “I mean, no offense Nate but – ”

“I’d just like to say that I won’t be getting on regardless of how it looks,” Haircut interjects.

“I would also like to point out that _no one_ thinks matching tattoos are cool except teenage girls on Instagram,” Zari says.

Pretty twists in his chair to face her but Trenchcoat speaks before he can, “And _anyway_ , as I was about to say, none of them are fool proof.”

“But it’s a start,” Pretty says. “Right?”

Trenchcoat smiles wryly. “In a manner of speaking. And for the record, Mr West, they do look pretty cool.”

Sara’s looking around at all of them looking exasperated and fond all at once and says, “Well, I suppose it’s not the _worst_ idea in the world.”

So it goes.

-

Haircut starts spending a lot of their downtime shut up in his lab running tests on Trenchcoat’s magic dust or powder or whatever, trying to unpick the science behind it all. Trenchcoat has been nice enough to not just tell him to stuff it. Mick’s seen them in the kitchen, at breakfast or dinner, Trenchcoat watching Haircut explain something with bright words and gesticulations with this faint smile playing across his lips. It makes Mick feel angry in way he’s got no right to, in a way he lost by choice if he ever had it but he can’t help it.

Can’t help the way Trenchcoat watching Haircut looking amused and fond and a little bit flattered makes something ugly twist deep within him. Can’t help the way Haircut falls over himself to help Trenchcoat out sometimes makes something hot and angry claw at him. Can’t help the way Trenchcoat smirking at him, calling him sunshine, laughing warmly at his guessed explanations make Mick want to punch him in his vaguely handsome face.

“Aw, Mick, are you jealous?” Zari teases, one morning, and Mick levels a glare in her direction.

“Nothin’ to be jealous of.”

“Sure, Mick,” Zari says. _This kind of avoidance is exactly what made you lose him,_ she doesn’t say and after a moment Haircut’s leaving anyway, announces he’ll be in his lab. Trenchcoat twists to watch him go, shakes his head and turns to Mick and Zari. “He’s never going to give this up, is he?”

Zari shakes her head. “Nope.”

Mick uncaps his first beer of the day. “Not until you get off our ship, at least,” he mutters around the neck of the bottle.

Something flickers across Trenchcoat’s gaze and he leans across the back of his chair. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that, mate.”

Mick sets his bottle down but Sara walks followed by her scary girlfriend. “I hope we’re all playing nice in here,” she says like she’s been watching them this whole time.

“Oh, yeah,” Zari says. “ _So_ nice.”

Mick stands up. “’m going back to bed.”

“Only unless we need you, Mick,” Sara calls after him and Mick gives her the thumbs up as he leaves. He walks past Haircut’s lab out of habit, pauses when he hears voices. Well, a _voice_. Pretty’s dragged the New Kid off to some concert somewhere, Amaya’s long gone, so unless Zari’s developed the ability to teleport, it’s only Haircut in there.

Mick pauses briefly. Figures Haircut’s just talking to his experiments or singing to himself or something and walks on.

-

Sara pairs him and Trenchcoat up next mission. Zari must have squealed, or maybe Sara just has eyes, who knows. Either way, it doesn’t go all that well. The demon of the week – some bird-looking motherfucker with a sword – ends up slashing up Trenchcoat’s chest. Not badly. Barely scratches the surface but there’s a lot of blood and because Haircuts there too, a lot of unnecessary fussing.

Trenchcoat corners him in the kitchen afterwards, shirt open over swathes of bandages. “Now, I don’t tend to think of myself as the sensitive type, but why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?”

Mick takes a sip of his beer, meets Trenchcoat’s glare. “No idea. Maybe you _are_ just being sensitive.”

-

Haircut starts looking kind of pale, has these huge dark bags under his eyes. There’s a morning he even oversleeps, when Sara has them all on the bridge for a briefing and sends Pretty to go and fetch him.

“I am _so_ sorry, guys,” Haircut says when he arrives. “I must’ve slept through my alarm.”

“It’s fine,” Sara says and her eyes skim over him, unconcerned.

Mick frowns though. Knows Haircut has a routine he doesn’t like to break and sleeping in isn’t really something he does. Pretty doesn’t look too bothered and maybe Mick should be comforted by that but he really isn’t. He keeps an eye out all day, thinks Haircut looks kind of spaced out half the time and flat out exhausted the rest.

“Haircut doing okay?” He asks Pretty while they play bait in a field for a demon called Lady Midday who’ll cut their heads off if they answer any of their questions wrong.

Pretty shrugs. “Yeah, I think so. He’s a little quiet but he’s also been pretty hyperfocused on those experiments of his. He’ll get over it though.” He tilts his head at Mick then, adds, “You could ask him yourself, you know.”

Mick grunts. “Might get a more honest answer out of you, though.”

Pretty twists his mouth.

-

The thing about the Waverider is almost everyone onboard has nightmares so Mick’s pretty used to hearing people shout or plead or whimper if he’s up late and wandering around. It’s gotten to the point that he knows who’s who even from a distance, knows Pretty tends to shout and Sara only shouts when she’s near the end and Zari just talks over and over and over and Haircut whimpers.

So when he hears Haircut say, “Just stop. _Please_ stop. Just go. Just _go_ ,” he pauses, raps on his door against his better judgement.

“Haircut, you okay in there?”

“Mick?” Haircut calls after a bit. There are some clumsy footsteps and then he cracks open the door, leans out. His eyes are red-rimmed, his hair is rumpled. He’s got one hand balled into the bottom of his t-shirt, worrying the fabric between his fingers. He looks apprehensive, Mick tries not to think about kissing that expression away.

“Everything okay in there?” Mick asks.

Haircut blinks. “Yeah, Mick, yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says it kind of snappish and Mick draws back a little.

“Jesus, don’t bite my head off,” he says and Ray blinks again and his expression shifts, changes into something more apologetic, more Haircut.

“God, I’m sorry Mick. I’m just tired, you know? I didn’t mean to – ” He breaks off to rub at his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Mick says.

And Haircut smiles sleepily. “Sorry,” he says again. Then, “Good night, Mick.”

Mick grunts in response and Haircut shuts his door.

-

“You think he was talking to someone,” Zari repeats looking bored. “I dunno, Mick, maybe he was on the phone? Some of us have friends, you know?”

Mick ignores the dig, he’s being the bigger man here and there’s something more important going on. “If he was on the phone, why would he lie about it?”

Zari sighs, “I don’t know, maybe he’s got a secret girl or boyfriend and he doesn’t want you finding out because you’re about ready to throw down with Constantine over nothing?” Then her eyes go wide. “Or maybe it’s Nora.”

“Nora?” Mick repeats. “The little demon-witch girl?”

“Darhk’s daughter,” Zari says, nodding to herself. “It would make sense, right? I mean he abandoned ship to go save her _twice_ and almost got himself killed both times. Although, she is supposed to be in time prison or whatever and I’m pretty sure if she’d gone AWOL we’d have heard about it from Ava.”

Zari stands up. “You know what, Mick, I think we should pay her a visit.”

“Lead the way,” Mick says.

-

They’re keeping the Little Witch in a nice little glass cell with spells drawn all along the walls and floors. She frowns at them when they arrive, “Here to gloat?”

“Actually, here to interrogate,” Zari says. “You and Ray. There something there?”

The Witch laughs. “Why? Jealous?”

“Nope,” Zari says. “Well, I’m not. I dunno about Mick.”

Mick glowers at her. The Witch’s eyebrows almost reach her hairline.

Mick steps forwards. “Look, we just want to know if you and Haircut have been talking.”

“You can see that I’m in a cell, right,” the Witch says, slowly. “And that I definitely don’t have a phone.”

“Well, this was a waste of time,” Zari says.

-

The first exorcism they see, the first _real_ exorcism, is a kid because of _course_ it’s a kid. It’s messy, bloody. There’s a lot of yelling and crying and afterwards, Mick finds Haircut outside the abandoned barn they brought the kid too with his knees drawn up to his chest, head pressed against them, breathing shakily.

Mick crouches down. “Haircut,” he says, then, when that gets no response. “Ray.”

“I’m fine,” Ray says, voice muffled. “I’m fine, I just – I need a minute.”

Mick puts a hand on his shoulder, then slides his whole arm around them and Haircut shakes so Mick pulls him against his chest. “It’s alright,” he says, rubbing circles into his back. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not though,” Ray says, face buried in Mick’s neck. “It’s not though, Mick. It’s _not_. That kid was – ”

“The kids fine, Haircut,” Mick rumbles. “We got here in time. We can make it so he never even remembers.”

“But what if we hadn’t, Mick? What if we hadn’t? What if – What if – ”

“But we did, Ray,” Mick says, firmly. “We did.” He turns his head, almost presses a kiss to Haircut’s forehead before he remembers.

Ray pushes away a little anyway, lifts himself up so they’re eye to eye. There’s something intense there, something deep and dark and afraid, Mick thinks. He swallows. “Mick, I – I have to tell you something,” he starts but the barn door is slammed open and Trenchcoat walks out.

“Cosy,” he remarks, tapping out a cigarette and shoving it into his stupid mouth. “Sara wants us back on board asap. We got another demon to deal with.”

And just like that Haircut’s fine. Stands up and wipes his eyes and turns to hold out a hand to heft Mick up, smiling like nothing’s wrong, like he hadn’t just been sobbing into Mick’s shoulder.

-

“Look, the guy’s my best friend so I don’t wanna bad mouth him but pretending to be fine when he’s not? Kind of Ray’s thing.” Pretty says, barely looking up from his book. He frowns, not at Mick, at the page. “Thought you’d figured that out by now.”

“You really don’t think there’s anything wrong with him?” Mick asks.

Pretty shrugs. “Not really. I mean I’ll talk to him but – ” Then he pauses, looks up. “Wait. Is this about you guys breaking up?” He grins. “Awh, Mick, this is kind of cute.”

“It ain’t about _that_ ,” Mick huffs. “Why does everybody think it is?”

Pretty smiling at him. “Because it’s _you_ , Mick. And it’s Ray and you don’t generally do caring.”

Mick glowers at him. “Beginning to remember why that is.”

-

He’s taken to lurking outside Haircut’s lab when he doesn’t have anything else to do which is surprisingly a lot. Mostly, not much interesting happens. Haircut sings to himself. Sometimes Pretty or Zari join him. Sometimes Trenchcoat. Once or twice Sara drops by. Sometimes though, sometimes he hears things that make his skin crawl.

It’s nothing Haircut says. All of that stuff is mundane, really. He talks about his day, about his experiments. He laughs. Talks about missions. The thing is, it all sounds eerily like he’s talking _to_ someone and no, he’s not on the phone, Mick’s peeked. He’s alone in there. No phone. No skype. No nothin’. Just Haircut on his own having full blown conversations, responding like someone’s talking back to him.

And look, Mick realises he spent a good year or so talking to the ghost of his old partner but this is _Haircut_.

“Do you listen outside everyone’s doors, Rory, or just your ex’s?” Trenchcoat says, on one such day.

Mick tries his best not to look guilty as he straightens up. “Thought I heard him talking to someone.”

Trenchcoat raises an eyebrow.

“If you ask me if I’m jealous I’ll break your teeth,” Mick promises.

Trenchcoat grins, bears all his teeth. “That a threat, Rory?”

Mick takes a step closer to him. “Only if you want it to be.”

Trenchcoat gives him the once over, sizes him up. Mick’s pretty sure he could snap his scrawny neck before he even got a punch in. Sara would probably be pissed though. Haircut too.

The lab door slides open then, Haircut looks between them looking pleasantly surprised. “Mick, John, what did you need?” He looks kind of tired but that’s normal these days. The only thing new is the way he’s scratching at his arm. It’s probably nothing. A bug bite or something like that but Haircut keeps scratching and from the material of his jumper it looks like he’s been scratching a while.

“Nothin’,” Mick says. “Just passing through.”

He leaves as Trenchcoat starts talking, heads back to his room and stares up at the ceiling until he has a thought. “Hey, Gideon.”

The reply comes immediately, “What is it, Mr Rory?”

“You can see all of us, right? All of the time?”

This reply comes slower, like she’s dreading what this is leading up to. “Yes, Mr Rory.”

“When Haircut’s in his lab, it sounds like he’s talking to someone sometimes. You noticed that?”

Gideon is quiet for a long time before she says, “I am having difficulty seeing Dr Palmer in his lab.”

-

“That is strange,” Zari agrees when Mick tells her. “Gideon, when you say you can’t see Ray, what exactly do you mean?”

“I can see Dr Palmer perfectly now,” Gideon says.

“But you said you couldn’t before,” Mick says, glaring up at the ceiling. “Earlier. You said you were having difficulty seeing him in the lab.”

“I can see him perfectly now,” she says, again. “If you would like me to access my memory files I can.”

Mick looks down to find Zari watching him with a strange expression on her face. She doesn’t believe him, he realises. She thinks he’s making it up. He sighs.

“Look, Mick, I get that what happened between you and Ray is tough,” she says. “But this is starting to get kind of creepy.”

Mick shakes his head, passes a hand across his eyes. “You know what, don’t worry about it.”

As he leaves, he feels Zari’s eyes on his back.

-

He wakes up that night to the sound of someone being sick. Which is odd in itself because Mick usually sleeps like the dead.

What’s even odder is that he finds himself rolling out of bed and padding out to the bathroom. He already knows it’s going to be Haircut, knocks before he cracks the door open and leans in. “Ray?”

He’s sat on the tile by the toilet, pale and trembling. He blinks once, twice before he looks up, like he’s coming out of a trance. “Mick?” He says. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I was – I’m sorry.”

Mick steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

“I’m fine,” Haircut says, hurriedly. He’s scratching at his arm again. “You can go back to bed, Mick. I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Mick bends down, like outside the barn, approaches slow and careful. “You’re not fine,” he says.

Haircut swallows thickly. His eyes are damp. He blinks hard and looks away, not at the floor but at he wall behind Mick’s head.

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

He blinks again, looks down at it like he hadn’t even realised. “It’s a rash,” he says, slowly. “Must be reacting to something. John’s got all sorts around so it’s probably just – ”

Mick leans forwards and slides up his sleeve before he can move away. He jerks sharply and Ray starts gagging all over again, luckily is right next to the toilet.

There’s a moment – just a moment but Mick’s never going to forget it – where it looks like Ray’s scratched his inner forearm right down to the bone.

It’s there. Mick sees it - the white of the bone, sinewy flesh and muscle stretched across the gaping hole, but then it’s gone. There’s just this patch of angry red skin, slightly raised and bumpy.

“What the _hell_?” Mick says and Ray looks just as shocked, just as confused.

“I don’t – ” he says, soft and panicked. “Mick, I don’t know what’s happening.”

Mick reaches out and pulls him close. “You’re alright, Haircut. You’ll be alright.”

Ray clings to him.

-

“It appears your initial diagnosis was correct, Dr Palmer,” Gideon says, a little later when Mick’s gotten him calm enough to walk down to the medbay. “A mild allergic reaction. With some topical steroid cream, it should clear up in a few days.”

Ray already looks brighter, calmer. Like himself again. “Thanks, Gideon,” he says, rolling down his sleeve. He looks up at Mick with this odd little half smile on his face. “We must have overreacted. Maybe the lighting was weird, or something.”

“The _lighting_ ,” Mick repeats. “There was a _hole_ in your arm.”

The smile falters, just for a moment though. “We were both half asleep,” Ray says, like it explains anything. “And I’d just been puking my guts out, so.” He trails off, still smiling. “Look, maybe we can talk about this in the morning, when we’ve both had a chance to get some sleep.”

He leaves and Mick doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t stare after him. Just sighs, covers his eyes with hand and decides he’ll have to talk to Trenchcoat about this.

-

It’s a week or so before Mick gets a chance, they’re run ragged trying to catch a group of demons that affect people the same way the Dominators do, trap them in Lalaland and feed on their souls, or whatever. Mick’s among the lucky few that don’t get caught. Haircut is too, not for lack of opportunity on the demon’s part though.

“Well, well, well, what can I do for you, Mickey my boy and more importantly, why should I?” Trenchcoat smirks when Mick asks if they can talk a minute.

Mick closes his eyes, takes a breath. _This is for Ray,_ he tells himself. _For Ray._

“There’s something wrong with Haircut,” Mick says.

Trenchcoat folds his arms. “Mm. So I’ve heard. You might want to talk to someone about this, Mick. It’s becoming pathological.”

“Just _listen_ ,” Mick urges and Trenchcoat actually stops talking. “You might not see it but he’s acting funny, alright? He’s talking to himself, hiding himself away, starts crying one minute and acts like nothings happening the next. He’s got this weird rash on his arm that sometimes looks like it’s cut down to the bone and Gideon says she can’t see him properly sometimes.”

Halfway through, Trenchcoat starts to frown.

“And if you say I’m just be jealous, my earlier threat still stands.” Mick finishes.

Trenchcoat doesn’t. Instead, he sits back in his chair, looks thoughtful. “How long d’you think this has been going on?”

And honestly, Mick could kiss him.

-

“Got a minute, Ray?” Trenchcoat asks, leaning in to Haircut’s lab.

He’s been talking to himself, low, too low for either of them to hear but when Trenchcoat announces himself he stops, spins around and smiles. “Sure, John, what did you need?”

Mick follows Trenchcoat, feels Ray’s bright gaze slide onto him.

“Oh, Mick too. Is this – Am I going to like this?”

Trenchcoat glances briefly at Mick. “Who were you talking to just now?”

“Uh,” Ray says, looking between them. “No one. Or you. But before that no one.”

“We heard you,” Trenchcoat says. “Me and Mick both.”

“Oh,” Ray says and he glances back at the bench he’s been working at. “I was just running calculations,” he says, smoothly. “Helps me keep them straight in my head.” He frowns then, looks between them. “Is everything alright?”

“’Course,” Trenchcoat says, smiles disarmingly. “Just can’t be too careful, you know? How’s your arm doing, by the way?”

Ray’s hand had been drifting towards it but it drops back to his side when Trenchcoat asks and a flicker of annoyance crosses his face. “You told him, Mick?” He asks, looking honestly hurt.

Mick tries to bite everything back, to tamp it down. He shrugs, evenly. “You said it was nothing. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Ray sets his jaw. “It is nothing,” he says after a beat. “It’s just a rash.” He rolls up his sleeve illustratively. “See?”

Mick braces but nothing happens. There’s just a rash. It looks more pronounced now, has spread further down towards his wrist, further up past his elbow. He frowns down at it, “The cream Gideon gave me must not be working.”

Trenchcoat asks a few more questions, even throws out some in what sounds like garbled nonsense and Ray gets more and more annoyed. Watching it though, Mick can kind of see why everyone else thinks he’s lost it. All these things together are so small, so insignificant but there’s something, _something_ he can’t put his finger on.

“So what do you think?” he asks Trenchcoat when they’re done.

Trenchcoat sighs. “I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on him for a few days but it’s not much to go on.”

Mick nods. It’s better than nothing, at least.

-

It’s an hour or so before Sara overrides the lock on his room and strides in, face like thunder. “Did you have John interrogate Ray?” She snaps.

Mick twists away from his typewriter. “So, Haircut ran to Mommy,” he says. “I was wondering when he’d do that.”

Sara ignores him. “Look, Mick, it’s one thing to pester everyone else about it but _possession_ , Mick. _Really_?”

Mick stands up. Sara doesn’t so much as flinch.

“I don’t have to defend myself to you, Blondie,” he says.

Sara raises her eyebrows. “Actually, as the Captain, I’m the only person here you have to defend yourself to. Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt because emotional maturity is clearly not a strength of yours but you are on thin ice, Rory. Leave Ray alone or leave this ship.”

Mick waits until she’s gone and the door has safely slid shut behind her to throw his typewriter at the wall. Then he marches right back down to Ray’s lab.

Ray has his back to the door. Mick’s too angry to notice he’s not actually doing anything, just standing there, staring off into space, arms at his side. “Haircut!” Mick bellows. “You _snitched_ on me?”

Haircut doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react at all as Mick storms across the lab towards him but then he raises a hand and Mick finds himself tossed across the room like a rag-doll. He hears something crunch as he hits the wall, rights himself blinking back stars from his vision.

“Haircut,” he says, low, cautious.

The voice that responds isn’t Ray’s though.

“Really, Mick?” Len drawls. “What is it we have to do to get you off our back?”

Mick blinks. “Len?”

Ray raises his hand again and Mick feels like someone’s grasped him by the throat, dragging him up the wall. When he was little, his dad used to choke him out like this to teach him a lesson. He raises a hand to his throat, claws at the hair.

“Haircut,” he hisses. “Ray, this isn’t you. This isn’t you, Ray. I know you’re in there. Come _on_.”

Ray goes rigid, then curls in on himself, digs, the heels of his palms into his forehead and Mick’s released, crashes to the floor, gasping.

Ray turns around slowly. “Mick?” His voice sounds small. So painfully small. “What did – ” But then he jerks his head to the side sharply, like there’s someone standing over Mick to his left. “No,” Ray says quietly and Mick knows he’s not talking to him. “Don’t, don’t.”

Mick feels something then. Something fine and spindly dragging across his face. He can’t move.

“No,” Ray is saying, voice a little louder. Cracking, brittle. “No, come on, guys, you don’t have to – ”

“Haircut,” Mick says and Ray’s head jerks towards him briefly.

“Mick, I’m sorry,” he says in a rush, his eyes are wide. “I think they’re in my head.”

“Who’s in your head, Ray?” Mick asks, licking his dry lips. “Tell me.”

Ray takes this shaking, shuddering breath in, opens his mouth but just as he does the phials and test tubes on the bench behind him shatter as one and he flinches. More things explode, more things shatter.

Someone must have heard something because Pretty and Sara appear in the doorway. “What the hell is going on?” Pretty says, looking around at the glass, at Mick sprawled against the wall.

Sara though, is livid. “That is it, Rory!” She snaps. “I told you to leave him alone and you what? Destroyed his lab?”

Pretty looks at Mick too, “You did that, Mick? What the _fuck_?”

“No,” Ray says. “No, it wasn’t – it wasn’t him.”

Pretty and Sara turn to face him. Ray can’t seem to look either of them in the eye, keeps blinking, shaking his head. “There’s something wrong with me,” he mumbles. Swallows. “Guys, I think there’s something really wrong with me.”

Mick closes his eyes, lets his head tilt back against the wall.

“How long has this been going on, Ray?” Sara asks.

Ray has sunk down to sit on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. He shakes his head, “I don’t – I don’t remember.”

Pretty has dropped down next to him, one hand clasped tight around his shoulder.

“They were – They’ve been here a while. They never hurt anyone before and I knew – ” He looks down, squeezes his eyes closed a moment. “I just wanted it to be real. I wanted _them_ to be real.”

“Who’s _they_ , buddy?” Nate asks.

Ray swallows again, takes a breath. “Len,” he says, glancing at Mick across the room. He drops his gaze again. “And Anna.”

-

Trenchcoat has his arms folded, his gaze is slightly distant.

They’re in the medbay. Gideon’s put Ray under and is stitching the bones in Mick’s shoulder back together.

“He says he’s seeing Len and Anna, his wife,” Sara says, she has one arm wrapped about her body too.

“Both deceased, I’m assuming?” Trenchcoat says, when Sara nods he sighs, runs a hand through his stupid dye-job.

“I don’t get it,” Pretty says. He’s passing, hands twitching all over the place, knotting together, unknotting. “I mean, Ray’s not an idiot. He knows they’re dead. He _knows_ that. Why would he – Why wouldn’t he say something? Why would he let it get this bad?”

“Probably thought he could handle it on his own,” Mick rumbles. He’s trying to keep his eyes front but they keep sliding over to the  bed next to his, to Haircut. Now he’s all still, Mick can see how tired he looks. How pale. They’ve rolled up his sleeve. The rash is worse, creeping down his arm towards his wrist, dark and festering.

“It would have started small,” Trenchcoat says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We need to work out how long this has been going on.”

“And then what?” Sara says, snaps really.

Trenchcoat doesn’t hold it against her. “Exorcism.”

Pretty stops pacing.

Sara sighs, drops her gaze a moment. When she looks back up her eyes look sort of red.

“It won’t be pretty,” Trenchcoat says. “Possession is like an infection. You need to draw it out to treat it.”

Pretty puts a hand on Sara’s shoulder, looks like he’s about to faint. “Okay. Okay, well it can’t have been happening too long, right? I mean, he looks okay. Right?”

Trenchcoat twists his mouth. For whatever reason, he chooses to look at Mick. “Demons are tricky. The clever ones don’t go full frontal, they take their time. Slip inside. Set down roots. We won’t know how bad it is until we start trying to make it let go of him.”

Sara inhales.

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Pretty asks.

Trenchcoat looks away from Mick, looks at Pretty and Sara instead. “I’ve got a pretty good success rate.” He says but Mick sees the cracks in his smile, sees the way his fingers twitch.

-

“I don’t believe it,” Zari says, again.

They’ve gathered all the mattresses in the Waverider. Trenchcoat says to put them all over the floors and walls just in case. Mick’s shoulder still aches but he lifts another, bolts it to the wall. There’s a dull thud behind him as Zari lets the mattress she’s holding fall.

“We should have seen it, Mick,” she says. “We should have – We should have _done_ something!”

Mick sighs. “Look, if Haircut let himself get possessed and didn’t tell anyone there’s not really anything we _could_ do.”

He closes his eyes when he hears the gust of wind, puts an arm out to brace himself against the wall. The mattress doesn’t hit him all that hard, Zari’s not really trying.

“Even _you_ don’t believe that, Mick,” she says. “And I know you’re hurting but it’s really not the time to – ”

“Sorry for interrupting Ms Tomaz,” Gideon says. “But Mr Constantine is requesting Mr Rory’s presence in the medbay.”

-

Trenchcoat is waiting for him just outside. “We’re going to wake Ray up,” he says. “Try and find out when this started. I thought you should be here.”

Mick sighs, “Look, me and Haircut broke up, got that? I’m not special to him. You should ask Pretty.”

“No,” Trenchcoat says. “It was you he told, you he slipped up around. Call it what you like, Mr Rory, but there’s something.”

Mick grunts, folds his arms, says, “Must be sensing someone that’d actually be worth possessing.” Because it’s the only thing he can think of.

Trenchcoat tilts his head at him, squints a little, looks like he might be about to tell Mick to stop lying to himself or underestimating himself or something like that so Mick tilts his head too. Makes it perfectly clear that he’s still up for breaking Trenchcoat’s teeth and that, since it’s Haircut who’s in trouble, Sara might just let it slide.

Trenchcoat decides against it, turns and strides into the medbay and doesn’t bother to look back to see if Mick’s following. “Maybe so, Mick my lad, but whatever it is, lets hope we can use it to our advantage.”

Sara’s standing over Ray, arms folded, lips thin. Mick takes up a position on his opposite side.

“Gideon, let’s get this show on the road,” Trenchcoat says.

“Right away, Mr Constantine.”

Ray’s a long time waking up. Stirs, mumbles, blinks slowly like he’s Sleeping Beauty or some shit. His eyes settle on Trenchcoat first, standing at the end of his bed, hands in his pocket. “John?” He mumbles. “Sara? Mick? What’s happening?”

“Give it a moment, sunshine,” Trenchcoat says. “It’ll come to you. I hope, anyway.”

Sara gives Trenchcoat a sharp look. Mick keeps his gaze on Haircut, watches as he frowns, as his eyes widen, as he looks up at all of them looking upset and scared and guilty. “God,” he says, quietly. “They’re gonna be so upset I told. I promised them that it would – ” He must figure that’s the wrong thing to say though because he shuts up pretty quickly, looks even more guilty.

“Ray, those things are not your friends,” Trenchcoat says, leaning forwards, setting his arms down either side of Haircut on the bed. He jerks back reflectively, Trenchcoat only leans closer. “They’re the products of whatever demon that’s got you as it tries to worm it’s way inside your mind, alright?”

“Ray,” Sara prompts, after Ray’s quiet too long. “You understand that, right?”

Ray blinks, like he’s coming out of a trance. “Yes,” he says weakly. Then he swallows, tries again. “ _Yes_. I understand that. I know that. I know they’re not – ” He breaks off with a sigh. “I _knew_. I just – I think I just wanted it to be real.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone, Ray?” Sara snaps.

And Ray looks at her all hurt until Trenchcoat interrupts, asks, “How long has this been happening?”

Ray shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“Come on, sunshine,” Trenchcoat says. “This is important. I need you to think, alright?”

He sighs again, drops his gaze. “I really don’t know. I – ” He breaks off, eyes darting to a spot over Trenchcoat’s shoulder. Trenchcoat stands back, glances in the direction Ray’s looking. As he does, Ray drops his gaze again.

“Everything alright, Ray?” Trenchcoat asks, looking back slowly.

“It’s fine,” Ray says. He’s looking down at the sheets, fists balled up in them. “But I said I don’t know. Asking me the same question over and over isn’t going to change that. And while we’re at it, stop talking to me like I’m some sort of idiot that can’t take care of myself because I’ve been managing it pretty well so far.” He snaps.

“ _Right_ , that’s how you got yourself into this situation,” Sara says and she regrets it the second she says it, Mick knows. She closes her eyes, exhales. Opens her mouth to apologise but Ray’s glaring up at her, gets there first.

“ _Is_ that how I got myself into this situation, Captain Lance? Because I can think of something else that might have played a part.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sara says, narrowing her eyes, even as Trenchcoat steps towards her.

“Sara,” he says, voice low. “That’s the demon talking. Don’t engage with it.”

“I dunno,” Ray says. “I was just thinking about when the Darhks captured me. How long did it take you to notice I was gone again? Did you, even? How long would it have taken if I hadn’t sent that video?”

Mick sets a hand on Ray’s shoulder to stop him. “That’s enough, Ray.” He says.

He feels him tense under his hand, then he relaxes, blinks. “Oh,” he mumbles. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that – I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I –”

“It’s alright, Ray,” Sara says softly, covering her eyes with one hand for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”

Mick squeezes his shoulder.

“Okay,” Sara says, lowering her hand and looking at Trenchcoat. “Let’s get this thing out of him.”

-

For four days, it’s mostly just blood and Trenchcoat shouting bible verses. Haircut’s skin starts to blister, starts to scab and he’s mostly gone, replaced by this thing that knows all their secrets and says things Mick’s pretty sure Haircut doesn’t even know the meaning of it, but every now and again Mick’ll look down and it’ll be Ray looking up at him, eyes wide and hurt and confused.

Weirdly, it’s the New Kid that makes them take a break midway through day two. Pretty stays back. Zari’s gone to call around, see if there’s any backup they can call in. Mick heads to the kitchen to down a six pack, Sara and Trenchcoat join him. Sara goes straight for the hard stuff, Trenchcoat slumps over the counter, boneless and exhausted.

“I don’t get it,” Sara says, panting slightly. “It didn’t take this long with me.”

“That was different,” Trenchcoat says, sitting up slightly. “Your friend Mallus was still caged, he wasn’t at full strength. I’m presuming things sped up considerably once you released him.”

Mick hums. “The Witch grew wings and teeth.”

Trenchcoat sighs, scrubs at his eyes. “The longer this goes on, the weaker he’s getting.”

“How long can he last?” Sara asks.

Trenchcoat shrugs. “Depends on the host. Could be days, could be weeks. Could be months.”

“I’m sorry, _months_?” Sara repeats.

“Yeah, not to be a downer or nothing, but Haircut doesn’t look like he’s got days in him, let alone weeks,” Mick says and Sara looks at him, hurt but he doesn’t react. He’s just being honest. No matter how shitty it feels. How it makes him want to break everything for a quarter mile around him and set it all alight.

“Well, he’ll have to, won’t he?” Trenchcoat snaps. “Else that thing inside him will take him over and there’ll be nothing left to save.”

Zari picks that moment to lean into the kitchen, raps on the doorframe. “Hey, so, about back-up, Ava suggested someone who might have some insight but I’m pretty sure you’re all going to hate it.”

-

“No,” Sara says, flatly. “No way.”

The little Witch is standing beside Sara’s hot girlfriend wearing cuffs carved with weird symbols. “Look, I realise you’ve got no reason to trust me but Ray tried to help me as a kid and he saved my life. If there’s something I can do to help, I want to.”

“No,” Sara says, again.

“Actually, Miss Lance,” Trenchcoat says. “Since this is my area of expertise, I think I’m better place to judge whether Nora here can help or not.”

Sara glares at him and Trenchcoat smirks as he waltzes past her, gives the Witch a once over. “I hear you’re quite the accomplished Sorceress, Ms Darhk.”

The Witch eyes him suspiciously. “I learnt from the best,” she says. “ _And_ I know what it feels like to have a demon trying to rot you from the inside out.”

“Which certainly doesn’t hurt,” Trenchcoat says. He winks at her, roguishly, says, “Welcome aboard then. Try anything, though, and I’ll let Mr Rory here shoot you which I’m sure he’ll enjoy.”

He winks at Mick too as he’s passing, reaches up to pat him on the shoulder. Mick decides he’s maybe not all that bad. He’s got Ray’s anti-magic gun in hand, waves it at the Witch as Sara and her girlfriend have a conversation mostly through raised eyebrows and glares. It gets boring pretty quickly and Mick’s sure whatever they’re trying to work out between them will go a little speedier if they use their words so he steps forward, “Want me to take the Witch off your hands so you can argue with your girlfriend, boss?”

“That would be great, Mick,” Sara says. “And please, look for an excuse to shoot her.”

“You got it, boss.”

The thing wearing Ray’s face knows the minute the Witch steps into the room. It sits up, throws Pretty and Zari a few feet back with some unseen force and grins wide and sickly. “My, my, my, Nora Darhk. Look how you’ve grown. Mallus was pretty excited about you back in the day. Nowadays we’ve got to make do with your father. Insufferable. Definitely not so easy on the eyes. He does scream pretty though,” it’s voice shifts at the end, changes into someone else. “Would you like to speak to him, Nora Doll?”

The Witch raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to do a little better than that if you want to frighten me.”

-

With the Witch, they start to make some headway. According to Trenchcoat, at least. What that really means though is that Ray gets worse. A lot worse.

“It’s fighting harder,” Trenchcoat says on day six, smiling slightly. “It’s starting to panic. We’re winning, my friends.”

“You might want to start winning quicker though because Ray really isn’t looking so great,” Zari says.

-

They’ve started pulling shifts, making sure there are at least two people with Ray at all times. Mick’s started to lose track of the days, figures it probably doesn’t matter since they’re holed up in the temporal zone.

It’s his shift, his and Trenchcoat’s except Trenchcoat has been running on fumes for days and is asleep against the far wall so really it’s just Mick. Mick taking pity on him and mopping up the worst of the blood and puke from his stupid face.

He stirs halfway through, cracks an eye open.

“That you, Haircut?”

He swallows a few times before nodding and Mick hums. “How you holding up?”

“’m tired,” he mumbles.

Mick sighs. Sets down the cloth he’s been using and runs a hand through Ray’s hair gently. “I know. You gotta hang in there though, alright? The idiot with the bad hair and trenchcoat thinks he’s pretty close to saving your dumb ass and I honestly don’t know how the rest of these morons will cope if you kick it. So you hold on, for my sanity.”

It gets the barest twitch of a smile.

“Okay. For your sake, Mick.” Then he flinches, tenses.

“You still with me, Haircut?”

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is strained. “Yeah, I’m just – I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off.”

Mick grips his hand, tries to think about what he’s supposed to say now.

Trenchcoat saves him. “Keep fighting, sunshine,” he says. “And whatever you do, don’t say yes. Don’t let it in.”

Ray tilts his head towards him, grunts with the effort it takes. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t – you don’t know how persuasive they can be.”

“Oh, trust me,” Trenchcoat says, shuffles towards them. “I know this feeling well enough, Raymond and if I can beat it – an ex-junkie from some English gutter – then you certainly can.”

He sets a hand on Ray’s other arm, looks up at Mick. “Isn’t that right, Mr Rory?”

“Englishman’s right, Haircut. You just hold on.”

-

“I don’t know how much more of this he can take,” the Witch says, a few hours later.

Ray’s breath is coming in these raspy little pants, rattling through his chest. All through Trenchcoat’s yelling he was crying, begging them to stop. Pretty has dropped down to check him over while Trenchcoat breathes heavily against the wall.

 “Guys,” Pretty says and he looks up at them all, panicked and pale. “Guys, his pulse is really week. I can hardly feel it.”

There’s silence then, broken only by Ray’s panicked breathing, by the sound of him shifting restlessly against the mattresses.

Trenchcoat drops to his knees and grabs one of Ray’s wrists. Tightens his jaw.

Sara closes her eyes. She sways and for a minute Mick thinks she’s going to fall but she doesn’t. She doesn’t. She opens her eyes, takes a hard, steady breath. “What does that mean?”

Trenchcoat looks grimly around at them. “It means that when we get this thing out of Ray we better hope to high hell we can get him to the medbay in time.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” New Kid says, his voice trembling. “I can get him there but – ”

“If his heart stops beating that’s a problem, right?” Zari says. “Even if we get the demon out of him.”

“It’s not ideal,” Trenchcoat says. “So we better get a move on.” He stands up, paces this way and that, puts one hand up to thump the heel of it against his own forehead. “There must be a reason it’s holding on so tightly. Come on, John, think. _Think_.”

“Easy,” The Witch says from her spot against the wall. “It wants this ship. Think about it: all it would need to do would make a few changes to the timeline and the whole world would fall apart.”

Trenchcoat stops to look at her. Sara crosses her arms. “Is she right, John?”

Trenchcoat twists his mouth.

“You know I’m right,” the Witch says, takes a few steps forwards too quick for Mick’s liking so he raises Ray’s gun. The Witch stops, raises her hands. “Look, you know I’m right, Constantine, and you know that it means the demon would be happy with any host on board.”

“No,” Trenchcoat says.

“ _Yes_ ,” the Witch insists. “This is the only way.”

“The only way to what?” Zari asks.

The Witch looks at her, looks at Sara, looks at Mick. “To save him.”

“No, Nora,” Trenchcoat says. “It’s suicide and it might not work.”

“ _What_ might not work?” Sara snaps.

Trenchcoat and the Witch exchange a look. Eventually, Trenchcoat sighs. “Nora’s suggesting we get the demon out of sunshine here by offering it up an alternative host,” he glares back at the Witch. “Which, as I’ve said, is tantamount to _suicide_.”

“I can do it,” Nora says. “I’ve done it before.”

“Before you offered yourself up _willingly_ and Mallus swallowed you whole,” Trenchcoat says. “And besides, I don’t really fancy giving that demon access to your powers so stuff it, Nora love, there’s a girl.”

“What about me?” Sara says immediately.

“No,” Trenchcoat says, doesn’t even look at her. He slides a hand into his pocket to draw out a lighter, flicks it open and shut as he talks. “You’re too strong.”

“Strong enough to fight it off,” Sara says.

Trenchcoat sighs. “ _No_. Look, I really don’t think you people are grasping the situation here. This isn’t Mallus reaching out from his cage, yeah? This is a demon at it’s full strength, focusses _solely_ on destroying this team. You get that? Now, Ray’s offered a little extra protection because of his faith and he has the least darkness in him of all of all and it still got him. Now, that in mind, you still want to let that thing in?”

“I have faith,” Zari points out.

“And I’ve fought off a demon before,” Sara says.

Trenchcoat covers his eyes. “That doesn’t mean _anything_ – ” He starts but Mick interrupts him.

“I can do it,” he says, and he’s never been more certain of anything in his life.

Everyone is looking at him, Zari shakes her head, Pretty looks kind of damp and conflicted, New Kid and the Witch look confused, Sara looks thoughtful. Trenchcoat snorts, “Look, no offence, Mick my lad but from what I’ve heard, you’ve got demons to rival my own. I don’t much fancy your chances.”

“Maybe,” Mick says. “But I’ve faced my demons. Haircut’s only ever hid from his.”

Trenchcoat sighs again, looks like he’s about to launch into another lecture that Mick only half understands but Sara speaks first, holds up a hand to silence everyone else. “No, he’s right. Think about it: Mick met his dad last year in Vietnam and confronted that but when we saved little Ray from the dominator – ”

“He didn’t change,” Zari finishes for her, tone flat.

“Exactly,” Mick says. “Still the same stupid, reckless moron he was when the first Brit recruited us all way back when.”

“But that’s just _Ray_ ,” Pretty says, standing up and turning to face Mick. “That’s not his demons, or his trauma or anything. That’s just who he _is_.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Mick says. “And if that’s the case, you can always put a bullet in my head and put a stop to that demon once and for all.” He turns to face Trenchcoat. “Right, English?”

Trenchcoat swallows, flicks the lighter shut.

Mick turns to Sara. She gives him a small, tight nod. Mick nods back.

“Good. Now that that’s sorted, let’s save Haircut. Again.”

-

“First of all, we’ve got to find a way to make you a more attractive host for the demon,” Trenchcoat says, after they’ve all taken five. He’s chewing on a cigarette, unlit on account of Ray’s tendency to cough up a lung around smoke, Mick’s guessing.

Mick looks at him. “Are you saying I’m not attractive?”

Trenchcoat’s grim expression doesn’t falter.

“What he’s saying,” The Witch says, arms crossed tight across her chest. “Is that there’s no reason for the demon to leave Ray and go into you. There’s nothing that differentiates the two of you. In fact, Ray is more attractive for the fact that all of you are falling over yourselves to save him but everyone readily agreed to shoot you if this doesn’t work.”

She shifts her anger to Trenchcoat. “Which is why _I_ should do it. I have _magic_. It gives the demon a reason to transfer over to me.”

Trenchcoat sighs at her. “Look, no offence Nora love, but from where I’m standing no one has any reason to trust that you won’t just turn on us the second that demon’s power is added to yours.”

The Witch looks like she’s been slapped. Mick huffs, “So teach me magic, then.”

That gets a laugh from her. “Are you serious? Teach you magic? That would take _years_.”

“Good thing we’re on a time ship then,” Mick says and the Witch closes her mouth pretty quickly.

Trenchcoat snorts, impressed.

“Or do you think you’re not good enough to teach me?” Mick goads.

The Witch draws back, thins her lips. “I can teach you the basics at least.”

“Would that be enough?” Sara asks.

Trenchcoat nods.

“Alright, good. Rory, you take the jumpship with Nora, learn the basics, just enough to make you an attractive host, okay? I want you back here as soon as you can be. Nate – ” she looks at him, then shakes his head, “Wally, Zari go with them. I’ll get Ava too. If Nora tries anything - _anything –_ you shot her with that gun and you come right back here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Wally says.

“We won’t mess this up,” Zari says.

“Nate, John and I will hold down the fort here,” Sara says and she looks at Mick one last time. “You sure you want to do this, Rory?”

Mick nods. “I’m sure.”

“Alright then, let’s move.”

-

Learning magic turns out to be pretty easy. Well, not _easy_ but it’s a damn sight easier to learn something when there’s a life on the line and your teacher is pretty hot. Zari learns too, just in case, she says. New Kid says he’s good with his speed, asks why he wouldn’t be when the Witch huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Sara’s girlfriend shows up a few months in, watches over all of them with steely eyes and a tight jaw.

When they get back on board, Pretty’s in with Ray and Trenchcoat and Sara are outside, heads bent close, talking in low voices. They stop when Trenchcoat glances up and sees Mick.

“All set then, squire?” he asks.

Mick holds out a hand, forms a ball of flame that hovers just above his palm.

“Good enough for me,” Trenchcoat says. “Let’s get this shitshow started then, shall we?”

He opens the door and steps into the room, Mick moves to follow him but Sara snags his sleeve. “Last chance to back out,” she says. “We can find another way. We always have in the past.”

Mick pulls his arm out of her grip. “This _is_ our other way.”

Sara sighs.

When Mick steps into the room, Pretty stands up and thing inside Ray twitches, turns towards him, sneers. “ _Oh_ , there’s something different about you, Mick,” it says. “Did you do that for me?”

“For him,” Mick says.

The thing laughs. “How _sweet._ Pity Raymond isn’t around to see it.”

“Don’t lie,” Trenchcoat says, flicking holy water that sizzles across Ray’s chest. “He’s still in there. He’s still fighting. If he wasn’t, you’d have killed us all by now.”

The thing snarls in pain before it laughs again, deep, unsettling. “Maybe I just enjoy toying with you.”

Trenchcoat snorts. “It must be embarrassing for a demon to be so _bad_ at lying.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Sara says. “We’ve got a job to do here. Mick, you’ve got to get to the spiritual plane and find Ray, make the exchange. Wally, think you can zen him out enough to get him there?”

-

The spiritual plane looks a lot like the Waverider apparently.

“Didn’t the last time I was here,” Zari says because she insisted on coming and making sure Mick didn’t fuck up. “Let’s go.”

They’ve ended up on the Bridge. All the lights are out. Mick still has his gun.

They move off slowly.

“Where’d you think he’ll be?” Zari hisses. “Lab?”

Mick shakes his head. “Trenchcoat said it’d be somewhere he feels safe.”

“His room?” Zari suggests. “ _Your_ room?”

Mick thinks a moment. “Jump-ship,” he decides.

Zari nods.

-

They make it through without anything trying to kill them but every now and again there are these explosions that rock the ship, like someone’s firing on them or something.

In the jump-ship, they find Ray frantically trying to rewire it. He’s done something to the lock that means Zari has to spend five minutes or so doing something complicated to get it open. Ray doesn’t look up when they walk in, doesn’t even turn around.

“Oh, hey guys,” he says. “I’m still trying to fix this thing. Every time I get close something else goes wrong though.” He laughs nervously and there’s a roar in the distance that makes Mick jump.

Zari’s eyes are wide. “Was that a dinosaur?”

“Yep,” Ray says brightly. “A T-rex. Gertrude. She’s honestly not so bad if you can keep out of the way of her teeth and her tail and her feet and – But, anyway, she’s alright. Sometimes the jump-ship just explodes and I’m tiny again and back on that building site or I’m a kid and there’s a man who wants to shoot me because I brought a dominator home or I’m back in Starling and – ”

He breaks off, looks up. Mick follows his gaze, sees a woman appear at the other end of the jump-ship. She’s on her knees, bloody and dirty, _Ray,_ she says, _Ray, please –_ but then her neck snaps, head jerks around at an impossible angle and she crumples.

Zari takes a deep breath.

Ray drops his gaze. “But I’ve gotta keep trying, right? Gotta keep trying. Gotta fix this because it’s my only way out of here.”

There’s a laugh then and Len appears, arms folded against the door. No, not Len. A demon wearing Len’s face. “Now, now, Raymond. I’ve told you. This whole thing will go a whole lot smoother if you just accept that you’re not getting out of this one.”

He makes this sweeping motion with his hand and the scene changes. The jump-ship looks all smashed up. Broken wires, panels everywhere, the chairs tipped over, stuffing pulled out. Ray’s on the floor, looks about as bad as he does up above, struggling to hold himself propped up on one of the chairs.

“There,” the thing says. “Better. After all, it’s rude to lie to guests, Raymond.”

It starts towards them, drops a hand to stroke Ray’s cheek as it passes him. Ray flinches, shudders.

“The Totem-barer,” the thing says, looking to Zari when it reaches them. “And the _boyfriend._ Or not, is it? I can never keep up.” It smirks at them a moment, like it’s letting its insults hit.

“So, you’re here to make a deal, are you?” It goes on.

Mick holds it’s gaze. “Yup.”

“A deal?” Ray says from the floor. “What deal, Mick?”

“Quiet, Raymond!” the thing snaps and it flicks it’s wrist, makes Ray seize with pain.

Zari moves first, “Don’t you _dare_ – ” she starts but the thing holds out a hand to stop her.

“Sorry, dear, you seem largely irrelevant,” it says and it flicks it’s fingers.

Zari’s eyes go wide before she vanishes and Mick turns too late to grab her.

“Relax,” the thing says when Mick turns back to it, raises it’s gun. “I just sent her back to her body so we could talk like adults.”

“Mick, don’t do this,” Ray says from the floor.

“Raymond, I told you – ” the thing starts but Mick shoves it out of the way, crouches down next to Ray. Ray reaches out, clutches the front of his t-shirt.

“Don’t – Don’t do this, Mick,” he says, panicked, desperate. “You don’t know what it’s capable of. It’s – Mick, I can do this. I can – ”

“You’re not doing so well, Haircut,” Mick says gently. “We think you’ve been doing this too long. Figure it’s someone else’s turn.”

“Mick,” Ray says, softly. “No.”

Mick presses their foreheads together. “You kinda don’t have a choice, here, Haircut.”

“But – ” he says and it comes out as a spray of red. “But, Mick – ”

Mick steps away and stands up even as Ray tries to hold on. “Mick,” he says. “Mick, don’t, Mick _please,_ don’t – I’ll – ”

“Alright, ugly,” Mick says. “Come on. You want me? Come and get me.”

The thing that had looked like Len smiles.

Mick closes his eyes.

Ray’s crying he thinks. Says, “Mick _, please_ – ”

And then everything is dark.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back home. Real home. The home he had when he was a kid before he burnt it all to shit.

Mick snorts. “This all you got, demon?”

-

When he wakes up, Trenchcoat is bent over him, eyes all focused and intense, shouting about some saint or other that Mick or the demon should let into their hearts or something. He realises pretty quick the demon is gone, it’s just him rattling around in his head but he also figures he’s never going to get another chance like this.

He headbutts Trenchcoat as hard as he can, hears the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. Then he blinks, shakes himself, like he’s waking up. “Shit, sorry Trenchcoat. Thought the demon still had me under.”

He looks around, Sara’s closest to him, blades raised just in case. Pretty’s behind her. Zari has a hand on Trenchcoat’s shoulder where he’s bent almost double, one hand pressed to his bloody nose.

Sara speaks first. “Rory, you _ass,_ ” she says, even as she starts laughing.

Then Pretty’s moving, throwing an arm around his shoulder, “I am _so_ glad to have you back and I never thought I’d say that,” he says.

Mick pats him on the back awkwardly. “So how’d I do? I beat Haircut’s record, right?”

“By a few days,” Trenchcoat says, looking back up. He’s smirking. Looks impressed. “So, well done.”

Sara’s made her way over, Zari too. Sara puts a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so. Where’s Haircut? He okay?”

Zari nods. “He’s still in the medbay, Wally’s watching him. He’s got a ways to go but he’ll be fine, Mick. You did it.”

Mick closes his eyes, breathes out. “’Course I did. Now, I’m going to need a beer and a nap.”

-

When Mick makes it to the medbay, Ray hugs him tight and doesn’t let go, launches into a tirade of, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” against Mick’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Ray,” Mick says. “I’m alright, you’re alright. I broke Trenchcoat’s nose but I think he’ll be alright. The demon isn’t alright but that’s – ”

“Wait. You broke John’s nose? Why?”

Mick snorts, “I’m going to go with _I thought he was a demon_.”

Ray pulls back a little at that, frowns at him. “Mick, you can’t just break someone’s nose because you feel like it. And besides, John’s – ”

“I get it, Haircut,” Mick says. “I won’t do it again. I promise. On my immortal soul.”

Ray makes a face.

Mick smirks, “Too soon?”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to write something that ends in john/mick/ray i can feel it


End file.
